What Stays And What Fades Away
by ninaluvsathena
Summary: Though Clarke returned to Camp Jaha months before, she's still dealing with the repercussions of her actions in season 2. Through Bellamy, she is slowly learning to forgive herself and be happy again.


**Random one-shot for anyone who feels like reading it :)**

xxxxxxxxx

Clarke briefs Kane and her mother, telling them everything she thinks they should know – there are a few things she'd like to run past Bellamy first, get his opinion on before informing her mother and her new boyfriend.

Yeah, it's weird, but it sort of make sense. Her and her mother have a rough relationship, but in the end, more than anything, Clarke just wants her to be happy, and Kane truly seems to make that happen, making Abby laugh and smile – something that doesn't happen too often on this devastating world.

She powerwalks through the camp, past the newly built medical center and through the rows of personal cabins. They're not finished yet, more still needing to be built, but _she_ has one, which kind of makes her feel uncomfortable.

She would be perfectly fine sleeping inside the Ark or in a tent, but when she came back to Camp Jaha with an aching heart and a guilty conscience, she'd been told by Raven that hers was one of the first to have been finished. Bellamy had built it – nearly on his own, refusing most everyone else's help, not wanting to waste the manpower on a project that he claimed was his alone.

After he'd finished, he continued helping the work crew to build the rest – in between hunting trips, playing guard for Abbie and Kane, and being a spokesperson for the delinquents.

He'd done well while she was gone. Amazing, really. Doing exactly what she'd asked of him. Working with people she knew he hated and dealing with the politics that came with his position – another thing she knew he hated – risking his life for those they cared about, those she abandoned.

But the thing that said the most about him, the thing that gets her every time, he hadn't done it for her, he'd done it for himself. He'd done it because it was the right thing to do, and that's who he was now. And she was so proud of who he'd become, not that he needed it, but she was nonetheless.

She passes the showers, something Wick and Raven designed and had built, making the Camp a far more comfortable place to live. Apparently there had been some talk of returning to Mount Weather, her mother and the Council arguing over the waste of precious resources versus having to live somewhere where so much horror took place. In the end it had been Bellamy's idea to leave a team of guards and their families there, manning the strategic mountain, while sparing the mental anguish of those who refused to go back.

Finally she makes it to the mess hall, slowing her stride as she searches through the familiar faces of the Ark for her friends – and perhaps one in particular.

She's been gone for a week, negotiating new terms with the grounder village closest to them – she was supposed to be back sooner but they insisted she stay, wanting to have a feast in honor of Wanheda gracing them with her presence. She hadn't wanted to, the whole thing making her uncomfortable. The last thing she's ever wanted is to be remembered fondly for all the lives she took.

She stops in her tracks as she feels a dark, sickening feeling roiling in her stomach, the smell of the food around her not helping matters at all. She takes a deep breath through her mouth, trying to take control of the sudden nausea.

"Your back!"

Clarke whips her head around, spotting Raven with a wide smile on her face, sitting next to Monty and Octavia. She walks over to them, looking down at them as she stands next to their table.

"So you actually decided to come back this time," Octavia says, with a sarcastic tone and a tilted head.

Raven frowns before rolling her eyes. She looks up at Clarke, toothy smile planted firmly back in place. "How'd it go?"

Clarke's smile is tight, uncomfortable, she knows Octavia hasn't been one of her biggest supporters since her return to Camp Jaha all those months ago. She's seen the fallout first hand of Clarke leaving everyone behind to deal with the ramifications of her choices. Though Raven has told her how grateful Octavia was for saving them, it's quite obvious to Clarke she's been unable to forgive her for abandoning her friends when they needed her most – not to mention they've never once discussed what happened in Tondc.

Clarke's use to it though, the dirty looks and the whispered gossip. After her and Lexa's brief relationship had been found out by the camp, there was no shortage of people referring to her as the Commander's whore, questioning, under quiet breaths, how she could be with a person who had left Clarke and her people – her own mother – to die.

She had no answer, other than, Lexa was a complicated person, and a brilliant strategist, who did what she thought was best for her people in the moment. And her feelings for the girl had been real and strong, and she had been just lonely and miserable enough to forget about all that had happened between them.

For a short time anyway.

She releases a heavy sigh, nodding her head. "It was fine." She shrugs her shoulder. "Glad it's over."

"You were supposed to be back days ago," Monty says, with a knitted brow and worried eyes.

She lifts her brows high, her mouth open wide as she tries to come up with an easy answer. "You know grounders and their feasts. They last forever."

Monty nods with a smile.

They sit – or in her case stand – in an awkward, heavy silence. All of them trying to avoid each other's eyes, or maybe just hers, she thinks, as she sees the three of them glancing at each other with unsaid words.

They don't trust her anymore. Maybe they do with the politics and the running of things, but not intimately, not with the shared jokes or the silly stories, and it hurts that she's so obviously lost her friends in this way. It hurts because she had never meant to hurt _them_. All she had ever wanted to do was save them, but things had become much more complicated than she could've ever imagined.

She clears her throat, trying to rid herself of the lump forming there, swallowing thickly when it doesn't work. "Where's Bellamy?"

Clarke's breath catches in her throat at Octavia's swift and venomous glare.

Unaware of the quick exchange, Raven snorts, an amused look on her face. "Where he always is whenever you or Octavia leave and he can't follow, working himself to death."

Clarke's face falls and she looks up to see the building crew at their own table, talking and eating while they take their lunch break. She rolls her eyes when she sees that of course, Bellamy's not with them.

She turns without another word, stepping determinedly away from the mess hall.

She stops in front of the unfinished cabin – well she shouldn't call it a cabin yet, more like a foundation – and sees just the man she was looking for. He's without a shirt, surely shucking it after the warmer weather became too much while working. It wasn't summer yet, but it would be here soon enough, the sun already glaring down on them hot, like a sizzling spotlight, too close to the Earth.

She watches as Bellamy labors beside a log, hewing it with an axe, every chop making her flinch with worry. They've had a few injuries come in from the building crew, but nothing too serious, and never Bellamy. He knows what he's doing, careful and precise, the thought making her face burn and her belly clench. Or maybe it's the play of muscles beneath sweaty skin, she thinks, as she watches him in awe.

She presses her lips together, taking the time to inhale deeply. "Your crew's at lunch."

He stops abruptly, axe faltering before he looks up at her with a tired face. She chastises herself for surprising him like that while he's working with dangerous tools, but then it no longer matters when she sees the relieved smile that lights up his face.

"You're back," he breathes, standing slowly from his bent over position, wiping the sweat from his face with the back of his hand, wet curls hanging heavy against his forehead.

She huffs out a small laugh, her hands curled with an excited tension that strums through her. "Yeah, so I've heard."

He drops the axe on the ground, covering the space between them quickly as he strides towards her, wrapping his arms around her. She immediately reciprocates, no thinking involved as holds onto him just as tightly.

She can feel it, that relief, that reprieve, that lightness she only feels when she's around _him_. It's a feeling that says, no matter how dark things have been, or how difficult things become, he's there. She doesn't deserve it after leaving him alone to pick up the pieces of the mess she'd made, but he's there nonetheless, and no one, not bitter Arkers, or hero-worshipping grounders, can take that away.

Her hand slides up his slippery back as she breathes him in deep and he honestly smells disgusting, but it's nice in a way because it's real and it's him, and she absolutely loves it – well, kind of.

"You're late," he mumbles in her hair.

She smiles harder and loosens her hold just enough to look up at him. "Just grounder stuff," she reassures him, "Nothing bad."

His eyes roam her face with a tenderness that makes her pulse race and her cheeks flush even hotter.

He nods his head, licking his lips. "Next time give us some warning, or at least send a rider before I convince your mom to let me go after you."

She chuckles. "That would've been a sight." She looks down at his naked torso. "A sweaty, shirtless Skaiperson, demanding to see Wanheda." She says it lightly, playfully, but the title pierces her deep inside, and she bleeds internally from the pain of what she's done. But as much as she wants the rest of the world to think it doesn't her – _she_ doesn't hurt – Bellamy always knows. He knows how her mind works and how that title makes her feel as if she as the blackest soul.

His brows come together as he tilts his head. "Hey, what'd I say about that?"

She looks down, arms falling to her sides and her jaw clenched. He squeezes her arms gently, making her look back up at him with hesitance.

"That's not what you are," he asserts, his voice strong and unwavering.

She almost believes it.

She hopes one day she can forgive herself the way he was able to. She wants to move on, move forward and become someone that _deserves_ to be looked up to – someone that deserves to be happy.

She takes a deep breath then slowly exhales it all, the negativity inside and out, because she's home again, and she as her friends – her family – and they're safe and they're happy, and in all this time they've been on the ground, that's all she's ever wanted. She has much to be grateful for, and she's not going to tarnish it with self-pity.

"So, why aren't you at lunch?"

He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. "Smooth."

She takes a step back, her body relaxing once more. "I thought so," she says with a shrug. "We can save the deep stuff for later. _After_ you eat something."

He grabs his shirt, and her eyes drink in the beautiful view one last time before it's covered. He gives her a playful smile as he stalks back up to her, wrapping an arm around her back, squeezing her shoulder lightly as they begin the walk back to the mess hall.

She's so incredibly happy in this moment, her smile so wide it's beginning to hurt her cheeks, but she just can't wipe it away.

"Hey, I eat."

Clarke raises a brow, looking up at him doubtfully. "Uh huh."

"I do. How else do you think I get this body you were ogling at?"

She frowns, shaking her head. "That's definitely not how y-" Suddenly her eyes open wide as his words settle in. "I was _not_ ogling you."

Bellamy continues to look forward, his mouth spread in a smug smirk that she _really_ just wants to smack off his face… or kiss off… whatever.

"Uh huh," he replies, nonchalantly.

She side-eyes him, watching as his smirk turns into an infectious smile she can't fight against. "Like you don't ogle _me_."

He laughs, deep and sound and she can feel the movement of it against her, vibrating through the very core of her, and she doesn't want to lose it, lose _Bellamy_ , who's making her feel, day by day, that everything is going to be alright in the end. "I've never denied it."

She reaches her hand up to his, her fingers taking hold of it. "Good," she says simply.


End file.
